


70 year truth

by varignon



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, One Shot, Short & Sweet, Starbucks, Stucky - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 17:06:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12089481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/varignon/pseuds/varignon
Summary: Bucky takes a new step in his life by recounting his story to a group of veterans.





	70 year truth

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this fic came to me in the first line- the wonder of what it would be like if Bucky attended group therapy. From there the idea grew and changed, and eventually i needed to write it out of my system. i hope you enjoyed this nonsensical rambling of a story :)

_ My name is Bucky Barnes, and i was tortured for 70 years.  _

_ Nothing i had been through in life had prepared me for what i went through, not even the war. It was in fact the war where it all began, but at the time i didn’t notice.  _

_ Back in 1943 when i was trapped in that tiny little lab i had been pumped full of every drug on this green earth. It was painful. The pain is what helped me forget what they were really doing.  _

_ I don’t know if i made myself gloss over it, or if i really didn’t put two and two together for as long as i did, but those experiments were my first step towards never returning to the life i had.  _

_ Maybe it was the fall that made me remember, or maybe it was the start of it all over again, this time so much worse. _

_ Memory wiping. _

_ Memory wiping was Hydra’s big new thing back in the forties. They wanted to recruit more people, regardless of their willingness to join. So they settled on erasing their person, getting rid of what made them them. And that all had started with me. Just in the short time i had escaped from that first lab to the time where i was forced into another one, their technology had improved. They gave me this arm at first. That was painful. But what was the worse pain of them all was that I felt myself slipping through my very own fingers. Do you know what it’s like to take the bench on your own life?  _

_ I fought them, i fought like hell. It took nearly twenty years off-and-on for them to make me crack. Twenty years i fought through the pain, through their experimenting, through all their beating me into submission. I couldn’t control the sleep though, and the longer i slept the more they brought in new technology. Improved what they had, made it bigger, badder, stronger.  _

_ Each new time i broke to the surface of my own damn mind they found a way to shove me back under.  _

_ Eventually i gave up. After so many failed attempts at trying to get out, trying to get my mind back, i gave in. I let myself sink into the Winter Soldier identity. It was easier that way i kept telling myself, easier to say that what my body was doing was because it was someone else. It didn’t change what i was doing, everything that i had done, all the horror i brought onto so many people.  _

_ The first time in 70 years that i found myself was because someone else found me. This someone, a person to see beyond the muzzle, beyond the arm, beyond the things i was doing, had noticed me for who i used to be. It wasn’t until the helicarrier crash, when i knew i had nothing to lose that i finally took command of myself again. He was able to break me out of the mold i ‘d been forced to fill for seventy years.  _

_ Figuring out how to live after that point was the hardest part of those seventy years, believe me or not. Half the world was out to get me and i didn’t even recognize the money it used, let alone the cars or buildings or anything you can think of. The food tasted different, people dressed and spoke and treated each other in much different ways than what i remembered, and that was the worst of it all- the remembering.  _

_ It was one thing to ‘wake up’ and realize you’re not the person everyone had been convincing you were, had led yourself to believe. It was an entirely different thing to suddenly be catching slivers of your life you were unaware could exist. I had become so used to weapons and pain that i forgot what it was like to be human. It was in this place that i was found again, in a new meaning, this time discovered and held onto.  _

_ Since then i’ve been fighting my hardest to regain what i’ve lost and to put a stop to it ever happening to anyone again.  _

-

Bucky ended with a shaky breath, stepping away from the podium. He tried to ignore the whispering in the crowd, the glares, the people diving into their tissues as he walked back to his seat. He passed by Steve who was now heading to give his own account. Bucky didn’t hear what he was saying, he knew what Steve had been through by heart now. It had been several years since Steve broke Bucky out of the government’s clutches. Several years of intensive medical treatment and therapy. This year, the American Legion contacted them to come give speeches to PTSD groups across the country. If there was anyone who could help struggling soldiers and veterans, it would be the oldest soldiers in the world. 

Bucky hadn’t minded the offer although he felt much more comfortable hearing Steve speak than himself. His story… well, his story wasn’t worth these people’s time. They were many states into the tour by the time Steve convinced Bucky to share something, _anything_. The first time he had gone up was difficult, there were gasps in the crowd and glares, all coming from people who had to know about his past. Bucky never recalled what he spoke about during these meetings, mostly things about ww2 he gathered. 

Whenever the audience asked how they both were adjusting to modern life, Bucky became anxious, uncomfortable. Steve would take over, joking about the big cars or the wonders of the Internet. It was times like these that Bucky drew into himself, reminded of all the things that had happened in the past. The truth was, Bucky was more accustomed to the modern era than Steve was, and Bucky hated admitting why. 

But for some reason Bucky had felt brave today and decided to take a leap. He had walked up to that podium and shared all that he could bring himself to in that moment. It wasn’t until after Steve’s talk, after the meet and greet, after the one on ones, that Bucky finally realized what he’d done.

 

He and Steve were in their camper preparing dinner silently, emotionally exhausted after a day of letting strangers into lives. Bucky was still thinking about the day as he mindlessly pulled apart herbs. He didn’t really know why he was compelled to share so much all of a sudden, but as confused as he was, he was happy. It felt good to finally be talking about his life to people other than his closest friends. 

“Steve I-” but before he could get more out Steve had turned to him, a look of pride on his face. 

“Bucky whatever you’re about to say, i just want you to know how proud i was of you today. You did amazing in front of all of those people. It was a really big step for you, and i think it’s worth adding to the victory book.” Bucky had nearly forgotten about the victory book. It was a silly gift that Natasha had given him once he was out of immediate medical care. She explained how it might help to write down everything he was proud of achieving during his readjustment into society. The first chapters were filled with simple things. _I combed my hair, i ate three meals, i went for a run_ , etc. but as time went on the entries became less but more significant. _I got lunch by myself, i hung out with Nat, i went with Steve to a meeting._

“Oh, actually you’re right Steve. Thanks for reminding me, i’ll definitely do that. But i just wanted to ask you… you don’t think i shared too much today? You really think i did good? Don’t you think they’d be better off not knowing? It’s not like i’m that much of a role model like you are and-” Steve cut him off by shushing. 

“Bucky, you did wonderful. Those people understand what it’s like to suffer a fate out of their hands,” Steve crossed the kitchen and sat in front of him, taking a hand and pushing Bucky’s chin up so Steve could see his eyes. 

“Everything you shared was perfectly normal. Part of healing is facing the pain, acknowledging it, and then letting it go. I know it’s hard to face things that hurt but Bucky you’re taking your steps and doing great.” Steve faltered like he was going to say more, but then just grinned his big goofball smile. 

“Leave it to mister wonderful to turn me into a poetry project,” Bucky grinned back, but tears had begun to pool in the corners of his eyes. And suddenly he was crying, crying for the life that he lost, crying for the pain he went through, crying that he had still come out of the other end alive. Steve wrapped Bucky up into a hug and Bucky held on, clinging like his life depended on it. Steve started telling stories about their childhood, about their lives before the war. Happy memories they both missed, both used as a crutch to keep moving. Eventually Steve’s brave face fell and he began to cry alongside Bucky. They sat like that together, draped in each other’s arms for a long time. After the tears came that raw understanding one gets without words. Steve kissed Bucky’s cheek. He giggled and wiped the tears from his eyes. What a bunch of idiots the two of them made together. 


End file.
